


Scenario 5

by Velociraptor_Hands



Series: Uniform, a.k.a. Fuck the Police [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe, BDSM, Breathplay, Caning, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, S&M, Sex Toys, Unhealthy Relationships, Voyeurism, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velociraptor_Hands/pseuds/Velociraptor_Hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the fifth scenario and first WIP fill from my <a href="http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuRw43Yi">Scenario Masterlist</a>.</p><p><b>Scenario 5:</b>  New Asst DA Tom is escorted by Officers Chris and Evans to obtain a late-night warrant from Judge Downey.  His Honor is happy to oblige, for a price.  Cock ring, breath-play, pool table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should warn y’all that although I started this with the intention of it being more porn than plot, it quickly took on a life of its own. I am seriously beginning to think that I am completely, utterly incapable of writing PWPs.
> 
> Also, I am a kinky but verbose mofo; this chapter alone clocks in at over 2.5k words. I love writing dialogue and it shows. So I apologize in advance that there will be no smut this chapter, in fact the smut doesn’t start until around Chapter 4. However, there are plenty of allusions to the aforementioned sexy times, if not actual sex. Sometimes the build-up can be just as pleasing, you know.
> 
> One additional **warning:** Limited understanding of law enforcement (seriously guys, all I know comes from L &O, CSI, and The Wire).
> 
> You can also read an slightly unedited version of this chapter on my tumblr.

Chris watched as Tom sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Tom normally kept a tight rein on his reddish blond curls, taming them with gel until they pressed close to his skull in wavy lines. Tonight they sprung from his head in an unfortunate case of bed-head, bouncing with every movement like a burnt-gold anemone waving against a strong current. 

 

_A burnt-gold anemone? For fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself, Hemsworth._ Chris shook his head and passed a hand over his face, blocking the sight of his current obsession.

 

Assistant DA Hiddleston was far too tempting for his own good, all lean lines and bright smiles. Bright smiles, that is, for everyone but Chris and his partner Evans. Tom was new, had moved recently from New York (England originally), and while he was very friendly with other lawyers and city workers, it seemed he carried some sort of grudge against police. He was polite enough, well just this side of polite enough, but Chris could tell that he was uncomfortable during their interactions. He had seen him in court and Tom was very good; a smooth-talking, playful predator in examination and a skilled orator during arguments. But in Chris’s office Tom’s glow dimmed and his mouth set itself in hard lines. He itched to slap a little respect into him, among other things.

 

“You’re sure? I mean, of course you’ve double-checked. But you’re sure?” Tom sounded far too skeptical for Chris’s taste. He folded his arms and gave the lawyer a hurt look, “That you would even think we hadn’t wounds me, Tom. The source’s story checks out, he is willing to testify, and add to that the phone records? You’ve got yourself a warrant and Bob’s your fucking uncle.”

 

That earned him a rare little half-smile and snort. “Is he now? Good to know. Look, this is still pretty thin, but I think I can polish it up and get it signed and sorted. Just don’t bring me this weak-ass shit again, alright? Especially not at god-knows-what hour in the morning. You’re lucky I want to nail this guy more than you or I’d be filing a complaint with your supe. Got it?” Tom didn’t even bother looking up at him or Evans.

 

Chris exchanged a raised eyebrow with his partner but held his temper, “Sure thing, Your Highness. Thanks so kindly for coming when we called.” 

 

It was a sign of how sleepy Tom still was that he didn’t try to rip Chris a new one for the nickname. Instead he sighed again, rubbed his eyes and turned to Evans, “You got the roster of judges on call? Who’s up tonight? I want the sick fuck behind bars ASAP.” 

 

Evans just rolled his eyes and produced a list from his pocket, “And we don’t? Here’s the roster, look it up yourself.”

 

Tom glared at him but took the papers, flipping through them with those long, elegant fingers that Chris had so many, many fantasies about. “Looks…like…we’ve got Gregg or Downey. Who’s closer?” He put the roster down and began organizing the evidence he’d need to write out the warrant, thus missing the gleeful look Evans threw at Chris. 

 

“Oh, uh, that would definitely be Downey. Much closer,” his partner walked over and nudged Chris who had been momentarily stunned by their good fortune. 

 

“Yeah, Downey is the best bet. Tell you what, we’ll call him, you gather up what you need, and we’ll snag a squad car to escort you to your office and then to the judge,” Chris could barely contain a smile. 

 

Tom stopped shuffling paper and eyed both of them suspiciously, “That would be very helpful. You sure it’s not too much trouble?”

 

Chris schooled his features and tried to look as though his eagerness was solely due to the impending warrant, “No problem, princess. You got yourself a couple of white knights for the evening.” 

 

And Tom could not ignore that nickname nor the giggle from Evans, “Fuck you both. You really want me to file that complaint, don’t you?”

 

“Calm down, Tom. Just excited we’re going to get the bastard.” Evans slung his arm around the wary lawyer and steered him towards the door, “Now, let’s go see about that dragon, eh princess?”

 

Neither he nor Chris felt the need to clarify who exactly the dragon was.

 

****************************************** 

 

“Look at him go. You’d think he was a man with something to prove, huh?” Evans winked at Chris who was transfixed watching Tom’s tight little ass run up the steps to the DA’s Office in his tight little jeans, two steps at a time. Tom’s un-tucked button-up was just short enough that he caught a glimpse of pale skin every time those long legs moved.

 

“Yeah, this’ll go a lot easier if he’s an ambitious little fuck. Leverage is a beautiful thing.”

 

Evans laughed, “Rob’s going to love us for this, you know. He is going to owe us big time. He’s had his eye on your princess there for a while.” 

 

Chris’s eyes widened, “My princess? What the fuck are you on about?” He suddenly felt a little less enthusiastic about the whole thing. Sure he’d been a tad more interested in Tom than in most of his past infatuations, but had he really been that obvious about it? 

 

“Really, dude? Sometimes I’m surprised his clothes don’t just fucking disintegrate under the power of your lust as soon as he enters the room. You got it bad, man!”

 

Chris huffed, “Like I’m the only one? You’d fuck him given half a chance.” 

 

“But that’s the thing, dude; you aren’t the only one but you wish you were. Me? Fuck yeah I’d take him and that would be that. But you look at him like you want to keep him. Making googly eyes and shit.”

 

“Shut the fuck up and call Downey before Tom gets back, you useless fuck.”

 

“Alright, alright. Christ, you’re so sensitive sometimes.” Evans flipped open his cell phone and put it on speaker as he called. Chris turned back to keep an eye out for Tom while it rang.

 

“Evans, you little shit. You either want to die, someone is already dead, or you have something I’d kill for. Those are the only acceptable reasons you would be calling me at two in the fucking morning!” As always, the Honorable Judge Downey, Jr. was colorfully blunt.

 

“Try door number three, Rob. You know that new ADA, Hiddleston?” Evans was grinning like a fool.

 

“English, strawberry blond, cheekbones, legs that go on for miles?”

 

“That’s right. He needs you to sign a warrant for him. Tonight.”

 

“You mean this morning.” Robert was still resentful of being awoken. “What kind of warrant? How tight is it?”

 

“Well, Chris and I think it’s-“

 

“So it’s shit then.”

 

Chris felt the need to defend himself and his partner, “Fuck off, Your Honor. You know you love us. Besides it’s for the Miranda Hamilton case.” 

 

He heard a sharp intake of breath over the line, “The Hamilton girl? Yeah, okay. I’ll sign it.” Robert sighed then gave a brief laugh, “How the hell did Hiddleston land that case? Whose cock is he sucking? He’s been here what, six months? He must be spectacular. Get on that Chris, I need details.”

 

“That’s the problem, Rob. Chris wants to get on that real bad.” Evans giggled then choked as Chris thumped him in the chest. 

 

Robert gave a low whistle, “Well, then, I’ll ask around myself. But really, fantastic find, gentlemen. You know how much I love blonds, but there is just something about gingers. Get his and your sweet asses over here now so we can start playing with our new little friend.”

 

“Sir, yes, sir. Tom’s still working on that warrant but it shouldn’t be too much longer.”

 

“Mmm, keep it up with that sweet talk.” Robert paused a beat and hummed, “Actually, now that I think about it, take your time. I just remembered I’ve got to call a man about a dog before y’all get here.” And with that he hung up.

 

“Goodbye.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Who could he possibly have to call at this time of night?”

 

Evans shifted awkwardly, “Well, there’s a reason I haven’t really encouraged you about Tom until now. If what I hear is true, he’s Branagh’s boy and pretty much off limits. The only way the likes of us could even have a shot at him is through someone bigger, or at least someone with bigger friends.”

 

“Like Downey, you mean.” Chris digested that. “Branagh’s boy? Really? How the fuck did I not pick up on that?” Well, at least that definitively answered the question of whether or not Tom would be into both men and their scene. He wasn’t sure if the idea that Tom was so experienced was a turn on or not. Though imagining that posh voice begging for permission to come, that slender body knowing exactly how to best please him, definitely had its appeal.

 

“You were too busy thinking of him on his knees to bother looking into who he might actually be kneeling for. So like the great friend I am, I did it for you,” Evans patted him on the shoulder. “Turns out your princess owes a lot to Branagh. Was his student at Columbia, got a clerkship through him, but stayed in New York to practice when Branagh moved here. I don’t know if that was a split or what, but Tom’s here now, so…”

 

“So likely they’re back on, if they were ever off to begin with. Branagh’s boy, huh. He’s probably used to a lot more pampering than he’ll get from us, then. God I’m looking forward to this. If Downey pulls this off, I might even kiss those boots he loves so much.”

 

Evans’s face turned dreamy, “The tall, shiny, riding boots? Yeah, I love those too.”

 

“I know you do, you slut. I think you watched too many episodes of _CHiPs_ as a kid.” 

 

From there the conversation devolved into an argument on the merits of Erik Estrada’s oeuvre until they heard a tap at the window. 

 

Tom was waiting by the back passenger door, arms crossed and briefcase in hand. He had taken the time to freshen up; his hair still looked as though it was trying to escape the orbit of his head in spots, but at least it had more or less evened out. He had changed shirts to a tucked in white button-down with a blue striped tie around the collar. But the biggest improvement, the one that left Chris speechless for a moment, was the lovely little dark blue waistcoat that clung to him, emphasizing just how narrow Tom’s waist and hips were in those skinny jeans. 

 

Chris swallowed and stepped out of the car to let Tom in the back, “Didn’t have a spare set of pants in the office, I take it?”

 

Tom grimaced in annoyance, “No, unfortunately. I’d forgotten they were sacrificed to a cup of tea this morning.” Chris noticed his fingers fiddling with the briefcase handle. Was Tom nervous?

 

“I take it you haven’t met Downey before? Don’t worry, he’s…,” Chris searched for a word or phrase that could encompass all that was Robert, “…eccentric? He won’t mind the jeans.” In fact, Robert would likely love the jeans, but Chris wasn’t going to let Tom know that. 

 

Tom gave him a small, almost shy smile in thanks, “So I’ve heard. But one does like to make a good impression.” 

 

Of course, Evans had to ruin the moment, “I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about there, princess.” 

 

Tom’s face shuttered and he quickly slid into the back seat, “You had better watch your tongue when we get there, Evans, or I’ll fillet it and feed it back to you. Act professional for once in your miserable fucking life.”

 

The threat rolled off Evans like water off a duck’s back, “Did you hear that Chris? He’ll fillet it. Not just rip it out and stuff it down my throat, but _fucking fillet it_. Next thing you know he’ll be offering to turn my liver into _foie gras_ or serve my balls as caviar. Look at this classy, Hannibal Lecter motherfucker.”

 

Chris got back in the car and intervened before Tom could escalate, “You, of all people, ragging on someone for being classy? You think _Caged Fury_ was Erik Estrada’s best work!” 

 

Tom’s anger gave way to incredulity, “The lesbian prison movie? Really? Have you not seen any of _Sealab 2021_?” 

 

It was Chris’s turn to be startled and intrigued, “I would not have taken you for a fan. What’s your favorite episode?” 

 

“I can’t have a sense of humor? And I have one word for you: bizarro.”

 

Evans pulled the car out into traffic and caught Tom’s eyes in the rear view mirror, “Be careful there, Tom. Keep talking dirty like that and I can’t be responsible for what my partner might do. If you tell him you like _Venture Brothers_ too, he might rip away that metal screen and have his way with you right there in the back seat and then you’ll owe me a lifetime supply of brain bleach.” 

 

Chris could have strangled Evans, but Tom merely considered his words then gave him a sly look, “I doubt even Brock Samson here could rip the screen out of a squad car.” 

 

Evans turned to him in disbelief before smiling, “Nice. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

 

Tom scoffed, “I’m not afraid of our good Detective Hemsworth. He seems harmless enough.”

 

Chris had been listening to them banter back and forth with amusement, pleased that the lawyer was opening up. But at Tom’s dismissive tone he twisted around to look him in the eye and lowered his voice to a rumble, “Don’t underestimate me, little princess. I may not be able to shred that steel screen but I can certainly split you wide open. And make you like it too.” 

Tom’s eyes widened almost comically and Chris was certain he could detect a blush on his cheeks in the faint light from the street lamps. He hadn’t meant to sound quite so intimidating, but knowing how close he was to getting what he wanted had made him reckless. It seemed his brashness paid off; Tom was staring at him as though seeing him for the first time.

 

Evan’s snort of laughter spurred Tom from his trance. He shook his head and made to reply but Chris cut him off, “No. Shut your fucking mouth and look over that warrant instead. We’ll be at Downey’s soon and I don’t want any piss-poor work on your part to embarrass us.” 

 

His expression was murderous, but Tom obeyed. His movements were jerky and violent as he snapped open the briefcase and removed the paperwork, but he stayed silent and obeyed. And that promised so many wonderful things to come.

 

Evans wisely held his tongue for once but his raised eyebrow spoke volumes. Chris ignored him and decided to give in to one last impulse. He made sure he had a good view of Tom in the rear view mirror before growling with as much dark satisfaction as he dared, “Good boy.” 

 

Tom froze, head down over the papers in his lap, hand poised to shuffle through them, then quickly resumed his actions as though nothing had happened. For the rest of the ride to the mansion Tom never looked him in the eye again nor said a word to him, but Chris could see how every paper in his hand trembled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a little more about Ken and Tom’s relationship, gain some insight into Judge Downey, and things get a bit darker.

Tom had never formally met Judge Robert Downey, Jr., but he had run into him at a Law Society International dinner months ago, soon after his move here. He had accompanied Ken and they were talking with a beautiful, young criminal defense attorney when Robert crashed their little circle with a shout of “Branagh!” He was shorter than Tom, about the same height as Ken, and had the most intense brown eyes he had ever seen. Tom had felt weighed, measured, and judged in the span of seconds. Those eyes had never left his even though Robert ostensibly had been speaking with Ken. 

 

Uncomfortable under such scrutiny, he had torn himself away to find Ken looking between the two of them with amusement. Ken had attempted to introduce the criminal defense attorney to Robert, but it turned out Scarlett was an old acquaintance. Oddly, neither Ken nor Robert ever said a word about or to Tom regarding an introduction or otherwise, and for some reason Tom had felt the urge to stay silent. He had begun to fidget while under that evaluating stare; it was as though Robert were looking at a particularly interesting or adorable pet while talking with its owner. It was humiliating. At the end of the conversation, Robert had kissed Scarlett’s hand, shaken Ken’s, and winked at Tom before going off “to inflict myself on others.” 

 

Later that evening, after they had returned to Ken’s apartment, Tom had brought up the strange encounter. “Oh that’s just how Robert is, lad. He’s always been able to size people up in an instant and, given what he already knows about me, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to suss out who and what you are.” 

 

A thrill of embarrassment had skipped down Tom’s spine, “What-what do you mean? He knows about-“

 

“Yes, Tom. Robert and I run in the same circles, not just professionally. He knows my proclivities, and though I’ve never told him your name he knows all about you. He’s not stupid; I’m sure as soon as he saw us tonight he put two and two together. He could see exactly what you are,” Ken had patted his cheek fondly. _And you wanted him to_ , thought Tom.

 

He had swallowed and forced himself to ask, more for Ken’s benefit than his own, “And what is that?” The hand on his cheek had given one more pat, then slapped him and gripped his chin tightly. Tom’s eyes had closed in surrender to the small explosion of pain and accompanying arousal. 

 

“Mine. You’re mine, pet.”

 

**************************************

 

Robert kept an eye on the live feed of his driveway security camera, fingers tapping a frantic rhythm on his knee in anticipation. Every time he did this he felt as though he would jump out of his skin with eagerness like a child on Christmas Eve, unable to think of anything but opening all those presents. But as soon as his “present” would arrive, all that anxiety would melt away into a steely calm. This time was no different; even if the pretty package on its way was nothing like the others he’d had the pleasure of unwrapping.

 

Usually his guests had no idea what was about to hit them. Robert did his research ahead of time to make sure his little bargains were met by at least a somewhat receptive audience, but he savored the shocked embarrassment that graced so many of their faces. Knowing what people wanted better than they did themselves was one of his greatest talents. And revealing it to them was one of his greatest pleasures. 

 

So when he heard that his two favorite detectives had managed to put the new ADA in a position of supplication to him, he was faced with an unusual situation. Robert knew Ken Branagh had a boy and he was fairly certain that boy was Tom, but that niggling .5% of uncertainty had prevented him from pursuing the matter further. He liked to be the man holding all the cards, and to ask Ken directly if Tom was his would expose a gap in his knowledge. Robert did not hold with being exposed to anyone, especially to a man of similar tastes like Ken.

 

But he also didn’t want to tread on any toes, which meant he was forced to give in and risk taking the hit by calling Ken. His greeting was brief and to the point, “Branagh, your boy is on his way over and I need to know if he can play.”

 

Ken yawned but sounded surprisingly alert for having just woken up, “Why should I let Tom do anything with you?”

 

So he had been right! He appreciated how Ken skipped the games and confirmed his boy’s identity without hesitation. “Well, given that he wants me to sign a warrant for a case that could help make or break his career, I thought you might be accommodating. You know how I operate and Tom definitely fits my criteria.”

 

Ken chuckled at that, “Why do you think I’ve kept him so close? Is this to do with the Hamilton case?”

 

“You mean the big one you finagled for him? Don’t deny it, Ken. Unless your boy has been blowing Hopkins behind your back, it has to be your doing.”

 

“You want me to lend him out and then you imply he is unfaithful to me? That is an unusual approach, I must say.”

 

“Nice redirection, counselor. Just give me your answer and any hard limits for your boy.”

 

“Tom’s career aside, what makes you think I’ll say yes?”

 

Robert had been waiting for this and slid the knife in with ease, “Two words: Idris Elba. I don’t know and don’t need to know all the details, but there is a reason Tom stayed behind in the city. I’m sure you took him back with open arms; I know you, Ken, and you tend to be soft with your toys. But don’t tell me you wouldn’t like him to suffer a punishment that will leave a lasting impression. One he can’t worm his way out of with those big blue puppy-dog eyes.”

 

The line was silent long enough that he wondered if he may have guessed wrong or pushed too hard and lost Ken.

 

“You always were a cruel, selfish bastard, Robert.” Another silence and then he heard a ragged exhale of breath. “No lasting damage or marks that can’t be covered, no scat or watersports, use protection. He’s a masochist who loves humiliation, although he’ll pretend otherwise. He’s very partial to breath-play.”

 

“Mmm, no wonder you took him back, he sounds delicious. Thank you, Ken.” It was more of a concession than he had expected. As good as it felt to be right all time, sometimes it paid to be wrong.

 

“Make him cry, Robert. Send him home in tears.” Ken’s voice was brittle and for a moment he regretted being the cause of it. Then the line died along with any thoughts of contrition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find this chapter on my [tumblr](http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuRyjPHY).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two detectives and a lawyer walk into a judge’s house…or at least the two detectives do. Mainly Hiddlesworth interaction in this installment.

“Jesus! This is where Downey lives?” Tom couldn’t help the exclamation as they pulled through the tall, wrought iron gates. 

 

The car moved forward onto a long, tree-lined, cobblestone road that curved up to a building that would not have looked out of place back in England. It was not a house, it was not even a mansion; this was an estate. Tom wondered if perhaps he had underestimated Robert. In fact, after the drive he now was fairly certain he had misjudged Chris and Evans; there was no way this place was closer to headquarters than wherever Judge Gregg lived.

 

“One of the many places he lives,” Evans corrected. “He’s got two apartments in town and a handful of others in and outside of the country.”

 

“Must be nice,” Tom tried not to sound wistful.

 

Evans turned around, “I doubt you’re living hand-to-mouth, princess. Not on an ADA’s salary.”

 

“Law school,” was all Tom let himself say in reply.

 

“Even so,” Evans was not convinced.

 

Tom shrugged and let it go. He was too interested in the…well, palace and grounds. The building was dripping with neo-gothic details and he thought he caught a glimpse of a large hedge maze off to the side. 

 

Evans parked on the gravel drive next to the colossal double wooden doors of the entrance and he and Chris exited the car. Tom waited for one of them to open his door but they both began walking up the wide stone steps to the entryway. Even though he knew it only unlocked from the outside, he still tried jiggling the handle of the car door to no avail. He barely refrained from yelling out and banging on the window to get their attention, unwilling to make a spectacle. Instead he leaned back in his seat, folded his arms and glowered after them. What were they playing at?

 

A butler opened one of the wooden doors and stepped out to greet Evans, who replied with a jab of his thumb at Tom and the car. The butler nodded and, to Tom’s mounting disbelief, they followed him inside. He was being left behind? Like some criminal they caught and stuffed in the back? A dog left in the car while they ran errands? The thought both irritated him and caused him to flush slightly. As soon as they got back to headquarters, that complaint was going on Chief Jackson’s desk.

 

It could have been ten minutes or two hours, but it seemed like forever before Chris ambled back out of the house down to the car, hands shoved in his pockets. Tom set an unreadable expression on his face, but could feel the corners of his mouth pull down against his will the closer the detective got. Chris bent down and tapped the glass of the window to get his attention, as though Tom hadn’t been watching him the whole time.

 

“Forgotten something?” Tom asked archly.

 

“Nah, Evans just needed to talk with Downey real quick.” Tom wanted to smack that infuriating smile right off his face.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep Evans from taking care of personal business on city time,” he bit out.

 

Chris just shrugged and unlocked the car door, “You didn’t.”

 

Tom was proud of himself for not scrambling out the moment the door opened. Instead he carefully gathered his briefcase, swung his legs out to stand up, closed the door, straightened his waistcoat, and then punched Chris’s bicep as hard as he could. Or at least that was the plan. He made it as far as swinging a fist before his forearm was caught and twisted down and back painfully. Tom stumbled forward from the momentum and found he couldn’t straighten as Chris side-stepped him to pull his arm high up behind his back. 

 

“Temper, temper, little princess. No need for violence. I thought you lawyer types were above that sort of bullshit. Not like us police.” He could hear the smirk behind Chris’s words and saw red.

 

He lashed out with his other hand, hoping to bludgeon him with the briefcase but Chris spun him around so that they were chest to chest, his strong arms caging Tom’s body, both hands now holding his wrists tightly against his lower back. Tom was shocked at how easily he had been contained and a flush spread up his neck and face. The fact that he was completely physically outmatched by Chris sent a jolt of embarrassed lust through him.

 

“Are you fucking insane? Let me go or I’ll have you busted back down to a uniform running foot patrols!” He hissed out and squirmed against his captor.

 

Chris leaned down and Tom suppressed a shiver as stubble brushed against his ear. “You’re the one who attacked me, Tom; I’m only defending myself,” Chris said mildly. “I’ll let you go, but only if you promise to behave yourself like a good boy. Or would you rather wear bracelets to meet Downey?”

 

Tom almost groaned in humiliation at the thought of being presented to the judge in handcuffs, more unwanted arousal sparking within his body. He closed his eyes and ground out as calmly as he could, “Fine. I won’t attack you. Now release me.”

 

Chris laughed softly and straightened to look down at him, “No, the deal was you have to promise to be a good boy and then I’ll let you go.” The pressure around Tom’s wrists increased until he grunted in pain and dropped his briefcase. “Say it.”

 

Stunned, Tom eyes flew open to check that Chris was serious. The expectant look on the other man’s face confirmed that he wasn’t joking. Tom had passed off that moment in the car earlier as wishful thinking on his part; that Chris had just been mocking him and he was reading too much into it. But now he didn’t know what to think. 

 

“You mean it,” he blurted out in amazement.

 

Chris’s hands relaxed slightly. “I always mean it, Tom. Always meant it.” He seemed taken aback by his own words and renewed his iron grip on Tom’s wrists in retaliation. “Now say it.”

 

Tom broke his gaze to look behind him back down the cobblestone road. How long had Chris known about Tom? Was it just a lucky guess or did he know about Ken too? Or was all of this Robert’s doing? His shoulders hunched against the unexpected breach in the carefully built wall he had put up between his private and public life. 

 

Impatient for a response, Chris released one of Tom’s wrists to grab his jaw and turn his head forward again. He searched Tom’s features for any sign of what he was thinking and narrowed his eyes at what he found.

 

“Say it or I’ll make you beg instead.”

 

Tom eyes shut again and he licked his lips, little bursts of pleasure sparkling like fireworks in that dark place inside his mind. “I…” he hesitated, then plunged forward, damning himself as he did so, “I promise to be a good boy. Please let me go.” 

 

For a moment he thought Chris was going to renege and kiss him, but the other man dropped his arms and moved back. “I knew you had it in you, Tom. Now let’s go see about that warrant.” He reached down and picked up Tom’s briefcase then motioned for him to walk ahead. “After you, princess.”

 

Tom pushed his shoulders back and willed himself to relax. He brushed himself off, smoothing down his waistcoat then his hair and re-positioning his tie. With a nod at Chris as though he were nothing more than a porter, he swept past him and toward the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this chapter on my [tumblr](http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuS2ROEF).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Robert makes Tom an offer he can’t refuse and the festivities begin. Mainly Evans/Tom this chapter, with Chris and Robert watching.

Although Tom’s intention had been to leave Chris, and his embarrassment, behind in his wake, it proved impractical once they actually entered the mansion. Tom stuttered to a stop at the epic scope of the foyer, if it could really even be called that. It was more the size of ballroom with vaulted ceilings, chandeliers and what seemed to be countless mirrored doors that branched off to the rest of the house. Chris caught up with him and placed a hand on the nape of his neck to urge him along. A formidable grand staircase lay at the far end of the room, but Chris ignored it in favor of one of the mirrored doors to the left. Tom couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of their reflection and was mesmerized by what he saw.

 

Chris was taller than him by at least a good two inches, which wasn’t a lot but given that his body was almost twice as broad as Tom’s it gave the impression he loomed over the smaller man. Tom was between Chris and the line of mirrored doors to the left, so he had an excellent view of how his silhouette was engulfed by that of the man next to him, how large Chris’s fingers looked splayed over the base of his slender neck. He felt those fingers flex and nearly stumbled, for a second unable to think of anything but how they could slide to the front of his throat and completely cut off his breath so effortlessly. 

 

Chris’s grip tightened again, deliberately this time, and Tom’s eyes flew up to meet his in the mirror. Heat rushed up Tom’s body from the intensity of those blue eyes. He looked away and attempted to move out from under Chris’s hand only for it to stretch across his back and grab his left shoulder, reeling him in closer to the hard line of Chris’s body.

 

“Open it,” Chris ordered as they reached their destination. Tom did so and they entered a short, wood-paneled hall that led to an arched door. Chris released him and knocked. There was the muffled sound of movement beyond and then Evans’s cheerful face appeared.

 

“Tom! We were just talking about you.”

 

Chris patted Tom’s back with unnecessary force and propelled him into the room. It was wood-paneled like the hallway, floor covered in Persian rugs and a fireplace dominating one wall. Bookcases and glass stands full of various antiquities stood alongside leather couches and chairs, giving it the air of a private museum or country club. A pool table and rack of cues took up the far corner next to a bar that appeared fully stocked. Chris herded him forward to where the master of the house sat with his feet propped up on an immense oak desk in front of the single floor-to-ceiling window.

 

Robert raked in Tom’s appearance but gave no greeting. Chris placed the briefcase on the desk, “Warrant’s inside, Rob.”

 

The judge sat up and efficiently popped open the latch to remove the folder from the briefcase. He reached for a pair of reading glasses and began perusing the documents. Tom drifted closer with Evans right behind him, and made to sit in one of the wing-back leather chairs that flanked the desk. Without looking up, Robert frowned, “I don’t recall offering you a seat.”

 

Tom froze halfway down, “I’m sorry?”

 

Robert dropped the papers and lowered his glasses to fix Tom with a stern look, “I did not give you leave to sit, counselor.”

 

_Oh._ All the awkward embarrassment of Tom’s first encounter with this man came flooding back. “My-my apologies, Your Honor,” he stammered and righted himself.

 

Robert sat back in his chair and appraised Tom, glasses off and tapping against his mouth. “Sir,” he said expectantly.

 

Once again, Tom felt wrong-footed, “I don’t-“

 

With a roll of his eyes, Robert interrupted, “Call me ‘sir’ not ‘Your Honor.’ Understand?”

 

Evens snickered behind him and Tom gritted his teeth in irritation, “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good.” Robert motioned to Evans and Hemsworth, “Have a seat, gentlemen.” He put his glasses back on and continued reading. The two detectives shared a grin and sat down in the wing-back chairs, leaving only Tom standing in the middle like a schoolboy called to the headmaster’s office. A few more minutes of silence passed before Robert finished; he re-shuffled the papers then returned his attention to Tom. Surprise and approval crossed his face as his eyes roamed over Tom’s body.

 

“Aren’t you well-trained,” he leered.

 

“Sorry?” Startled, Tom looked down at himself and realized that at some point he had subconsciously shifted to stand at attention: stance wide, hand closed over a wrist behind his back, head up and chin down. It wouldn’t be obvious to someone unfamiliar with the world of masters and boys, but he could see the judge instantly recognized it. Robert’s demeanor and the incident outside with Chris must have roused his submissive tendencies. Flustered, Tom defensively crossed his arms over his chest. 

 

Robert smiled, shook his head and held up the warrant, “I meant, Columbia obviously taught you well. But that was very nice, too. Branagh does good work.”

 

Tom narrowed his eyes in suspicion, unwilling to believe that Robert was actually being so blatant in front of the other two men. “I’m pleased to hear you think so, sir. Ken was an excellent professor,” he replied cautiously.

 

Robert’s smile turned malicious, “Is that what he makes you call him? Do you two still play professor and TA, or professor and desperate-to-pass grad student? Did he spank you for any bad grades or reward A’s by sucking you off? Or maybe Ken isn’t into role play at all but just enjoys hearing you scream out ‘oh, professor’ while he fucks your sweet little ass.”

 

A tidal wave of shame and shock crashed over Tom, chilling him to bone. “Wh-what?” he breathed out, horror-struck. 

 

He was vaguely aware that someone was laughing, but his attention was all on Robert who obviously relished his reaction. “Don’t worry, Tom. We’re all friends here, aren’t we boys?”

 

The rumble of amusement from Chris made Tom want to curl up and die, “For Christ’s sake, Rob, just lay it all out for him. I think he’s about to go into cardiac arrest.”

 

Robert sighed in irritation, “Fine. Spoil sport.”

 

“No, wait,” Evans cut in. “I want to hear more _Storytime with Judge Downey_! It was just getting good, too.”

 

Robert ignored him and turned back to a pole-axed Tom, “Although you did your best with what you were given, your warrant is bad and you should feel bad. This is some flimsy, circumstantial bullshit right here.” He waved the document at him. “Normally, when presented with something so offensive, I would throw it back in your face, make you cry, and then send you back with your tail between your legs for a beating from Old Man Hopkins.” 

 

A beatific smile graced Robert’s face, “However, I’m feeling generous tonight, so I’ll sign it for you. Not because Miranda Hamilton’s parents deserve some peace of mind, and not because I know you have the skill to defend such a shitty warrant. Those are both excellent and true reasons, but despite my title don’t mistake me for some idealistic justice-seeker, Tom. The real reason I’ll sign this tonight comes down to one thing only: you’ll owe me. You’ll owe me your submission and obedience for one night. And I intend to collect immediately.”

 

It took a minute for Tom to process what he just heard and another for him to convince himself it actually happened. “I-I-I…” he stopped and did his best to rein in his frantically spinning mind. “I can’t! Ken-“

 

Robert waved at him in dismissal, “Ken knows and gave us permission to play with you. But it’s still your choice, Tom. No one is going to force you to do anything, well, not unless you want us to. We’re not monsters.”

 

Ken had given his permission? When had Robert talked with Ken about him? That was…that was…Tom didn’t know what that was but it made his stomach clench up and eyes burn. Ken had always been so possessive. Why would he loan him out like a toy? 

 

_Because you are a toy, Tom._

 

No, Robert had said it was his choice, even if it met the definition by the slimmest of margins.

 

Robert derailed his train of thought, “We’re waiting, counselor. Chop, chop.”

 

_“We’re waiting.” We. Oh, God._ Tom had forgotten the two police. He rubbed a hand down his face. “Hemsworth and Evans are included in this too?”

 

“Absolutely are, little princess.” Tom would not have been surprised to find yellow feathers sticking out of Chris’s mouth if he’d had the courage to look at him.

 

“Princess?” Robert perked up. “Really? That’s just adorable, guys. But yes, Evans and Chris are a part of this package deal. Well, mostly Chris; Evans here is going to have to motor this warrant downtown if you say yes.”

 

“Yeah and Chris owes me big time for that.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Evans.”

 

“Children!” Robert glared at them. “It’s Tom’s turn at the conch shell, so zip it. So what’ll it be, Tom? A signed warrant, lots of kinky sex, plus a chance at career advancement? Or no warrant, no kinky sex, with us anyway, and nothing but the taste of failure in your coffee tomorrow?”

 

Tom almost smiled wryly at that, to have the situation so plainly laid out. God knows sex with Chris would be no chore, Evans either, but he hadn’t considered Robert in that way before, let alone thought about subbing for him. He was attractive enough, but Tom hardly knew him or what he was capable of. 

 

As though reading his mind, Robert grinned, “I come highly recommended. Four out of five say ‘Would sub again!’ You should check out my reviews on Yelp.”

 

Tom stared at him helplessly, “It’s just that I’ve never…There’s only ever been Ken and Id-.“ He snapped his mouth shut before he could finish. Thinking about Idris never brought him anything but pain.

 

Robert sobered a bit, “So Ken’s the one who broke you in. You’ve never submitted to anyone except him and one other guy, is that right?”

 

Tom nodded and tried not to blush.

 

Robert’s eyes softened, “Look, I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want to hurt you. I like giving pain and I’m told you like receiving it. I will put you under, but I’m not planning to break you. We all use and respect safewords here. Okay?”

 

Tom sighed in relief. _Not everyone is Idris._ He jumped as a heavy, warm hand clapped him on the shoulder. Chris had moved beside him and wore an understanding expression upon his face.

 

“We’re going to push you, Tom, but I promise you’ll love it, alright?” Chris’s voice was gentle and Tom wanted to kick him for it. He had already shown enough vulnerability, he didn’t want or need to be coddled.

 

He shrugged off the hand and said coldly, “That remains to be seen.”

 

For a second Chris resembled a kicked puppy, then his face set itself into firm lines, “So give us your fucking answer and find out, princess.”

 

Tom turned away and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to see white behind his eyelids. He raked his fingers through his hair while he pondered just how bad an idea this was for so many reasons. And yet, saying no wouldn’t be the best move either. On top of that he felt like Ken’s permission might as well have been an order. 

 

“I’ll do it,” he sighed and his shoulders slumped.

 

“Fantastic!” Robert quickly scrawled his signature on the many pages of the warrant, then popped up from his seat and came around to lean against his desk in front of Tom. “Let’s get this party started; introductions, everyone! Say your name, something you like, and tell us your safeword. I’ll start. My name is Robert, but you can call me ‘Sir,’ and I’m a sadist who likes hurting pretty boys. Hypotenuse.” He tossed the warrant to Evans, “You’re up.” 

 

“Finally!” Evans caught and folded the papers, then walked over to lean his hip on the desk to Robert’s right. “My name is Chris, but you might know me as Evans from such films as _Prissy Brit Sucks Big American Cock_ coming soon to a theater near you. Creamsicle. Your turn, partner.”

 

Chris also made room for himself against the desk to Robert’s left and folded his arms. “My name is Chris Hemsworth and I like long walks on the beach, watching pornos starring Evans, and fucking prissy, pretty princesses until they scream my name. Sahara.”

 

Tom scowled. Was this a joke to them? “My name is Tom Hiddleston and I am obviously out of my mind. Memento.”

 

Robert wagged a finger at Tom, “Nuh-uh. No fair, you have to tell us something you like. Do it or else I’ll repeat what Ken told me about you.”

 

Tom rolled his eyes to hide his nervousness, but could not shake his irritation, “Fine. I apparently like being dominated by ridiculous men.”

 

“Tsk, tsk, Tom. There is nothing ridiculous about Ken. Seriously, though, I was hoping for better from you.” Robert looked conspiratorially from Chris to Evans, “Gentlemen, I have it on good authority that Tom here is a rare creature. He doesn’t just like a little pain with his pleasure; he’s an actual, honest-to-God masochist.” He fixed Tom with a strict eye, “Who’s going to get a caning even he won’t enjoy if he doesn’t check that attitude.”

 

_Ken, you utter bastard._ Tom swallowed, but replied with more confidence than he felt, “I doubt you have permission for something like that.”

 

Robert raised an eyebrow, “You don’t think K-k-k-ken would let me c-c-c-cane you? Do you really want to test that theory? I’ll bet you never thought he’d lend you out either.”

 

And that was the crux of it. The fact that Ken had agreed to this left Tom all at sea, unsure which direction land lay. They had invited others into their bed in the past, Ken enjoyed playing the voyeur or director, but Tom had never done something like this without him. And they hadn’t done it since…well, since long before their reunion. 

 

“Yes, how did you manage that?” He attempted to sound curious and not distressed.

 

“Nope. Not going to work, sweetheart. We’ve put off the festivities long enough.” Robert smiled and shook his head. He pushed off from the desk to stand before Tom, considering him. “Evans, how would you like to give us a sneak peek of that movie you mentioned?”

 

“Christ, I’d hoped we’d have finished the previews by now, but yeah let’s get to it.” Evans stood up, removed his jacket and unbuckled his belt. He shucked his pants and underwear down and Tom’s arousal surged back at the sight of his fully erect cock. It was obvious what he was expected to do, but Tom knew better than to take initiative. That was not what he was here for.

 

“I can see you want a part in Evan’s little film, right Tom?” Robert’s tone changed from teasing to harsh, “Kneel, boy.”

 

Without hesitation Tom sank gracefully to his knees and sat back on his heels, muscle memory and instinct making the motion smooth and sinuous. His hands were clasped behind his back, his eyes down but head up, his spine straight and shoulders relaxed. The position was formal, but not knowing Robert’s preferences he felt it a safe bet. And he wasn’t wrong. There was a low whistle from somewhere above his head and then Robert’s approving voice, “Branagh’s better than I thought. Very, very nice. Good boy.”

 

Tom tucked away the warmth of the praise into a pocket of his mind to examine and enjoy later. Now he did his best to focus not on what he wanted, but what was wanted of him; to live only to please and serve, to become a vessel for the pleasure of others. It seemed counterintuitive, but he felt the most grounded when lost in the desires of another man. The freedom to be nothing but what another wanted him to be, with no worries of his own.

 

Still, he found it difficult to escape into that calming headspace here, among these men who were slightly more than strangers. Robert seemed competent enough and Evans would not be here long enough to matter; it was Chris that lingered at the edges of his consciousness, like the flicker of static through a radio signal. Tom longed for the clarity that came with submitting to Ken. He never felt rebellious or petulant with that firm hand guiding him. With Chris, however, he wanted the fight, wanted the other man to earn the right to put him in his place. It was disconcerting and only served to further rile his irritation.

 

Fortunately all he had to contend with at the moment was Evans’s fat, hard cock. Its owner stroked it slowly, caressing it as he moved closer to Tom. Without prompting, Tom tilted his head back and parted his lips slightly, waiting either for Evans to take the invitation or receive further instruction from Robert. He did not have to wait long.

 

“Paint his pretty little mouth with it, Evans, then let him lick it like your safeword. Boy, open your mouth and allow him to do as I said, then you can let your tongue out to play but not your hands.” Robert settled himself in one of the wing-back chairs for a better view and motioned for Chris to do the same.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Shit, Rob. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

 

As soon as Tom opened his mouth the warm, leaking tip of Evans’s cock pressed against his upper lip, beginning a slow slide that left a glossy trail of precum in its wake. His bottom lip received the same treatment and Tom eagerly leaned forward when it was done to tongue the slit, earning him a small gasp from the man above him. He swirled his tongue around the tip and slanted his head to the right to lick a long slow stripe down the underside almost to the base, then back along the side to where he began.

 

Evans’s voice was strained, “Can I fuck him now?” Tom sensed the presence of fingers hovering on either side of his head. Robert must have nodded his assent because suddenly Tom’s hair was gripped tightly and his head pulled forward. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth wider to wrap his lips around the hard length, letting Evans guide his head back and forth. He focused on keeping his throat open so he wouldn’t choke as the strokes became deeper and more violent. 

 

“I want you to come on his face. Boy, keep your eyes closed, mouth open and tongue out while Evans marks you.”

 

“Fuck, Rob,” was all Evans could say. A few heartbeats later Tom’s mouth was empty and he kept his eyes squeezed tight as hot salty fluid spurted over him. He caught a fair amount on his tongue, stuck out like an obscene parody of a child capturing snowflakes. When it was over Tom closed his mouth to swallow his catch but made no other move. A hand wiped across his mouth and chin then demanded entrance. Tom licked it clean and accepted Evans’s softened cock back in his mouth to do the same for it. Finally Evans withdrew with a groan.

 

“Jesus fuck, that was too quick; I want another turn. I’ve been waiting to do that since I met him.”

 

Robert snorted, “Drop off the warrant and get back ASAP, and maybe you’ll get some leftovers. Now get the fuck out of here.” He turned his attention to Tom, “Use your hands to clean your face, boy, then lick it off. “

 

Tom swiped at his eyes first then used the edge of his hand to wipe his cheeks and forehead clean. He used short, dainty licks to cleanse his hands and fingers and opened his eyes once done. There was still come in his hair and a missed spot near his left temple had begun to dry, tightening the skin. He felt debased, used, and all the harder for it. 

 

A grunt drew his eyes to Chris and the hunger he saw there caused him to shiver in anticipation before he returned his gaze to the floor. He heard Evans buckling his pants and then a hand ruffled his hair as he passed by.

 

“Nice job, princess. Try not to let these two wear you out before I get back.”

 

“Take your time!” Chris called out after him and received a raised middle finger before the door closed.

 

“Chris, would you like to unwrap our present from Branagh?” Tom stiffened at Robert’s description but held his tongue. He heard a deep breath from Chris to his right and the creak of leather.

 

“Are you offering or just asking, Rob?”

 

“I would prefer to be ordering, but I know that’s not your style. Still, I’d like you to be my assistant in prepping him.”

 

“Your puppet, you mean. That’s more of Evans’s thing. Why should I do it?” Chris sounded wary but interested.

 

“Well, you’re here and he’s not, for one. I’ll make you a deal, do this for me and I’ll give you some alone time with your princess either downstairs or in one of the guest rooms. I won’t even be in the same wing, Scout’s honor.”

 

When Chris gave no answer, Robert rose from his chair and strolled over to him. Tom could hear murmuring and risked a quick glance at them; Robert’s hand was cupped around the detective’s ear and both he and Chris were staring at him. Robert stood up and put his hands on his hips, “So…”

 

Chris adjusted himself and spread his legs wider in the leather chair, “Fine. You’ll get what you want as long as I do too.”

 

Robert clapped his hands in delight, “Of course, of course. Shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this chapter on my tumblr.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom is stripped bare in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the chapters I had written before winning my AO3 invite. I am still working on this and _Scenario 9_ , so you should see updates for both in a few weeks at the most.
> 
> In the meantime, please enjoy the fantastically hot NSFW fanart for this chapter made by [Your Friendly Neighborhood Anon](http://your-friendlyneighborhoodanon.tumblr.com/post/31784906139/hiddlesworth-for-velociraptor-hands-in-higher). I still can't believe she did it! I urge all of you to go check out the rest of her tumblr, it is amazing!

“Up, boy!  Stand at attention and give me your eyes.” Robert barked out.  
 

Tom shifted his right leg back slightly then rose in one unbroken motion.  He mimicked his position from earlier, hands behind his back, and waited until Robert was in front of him before lifting his eyes to his face.  The judge ran a hand over Tom’s waistcoat and pulled his tie out.  
 

“Tailored, am I right?  Did Ken have your clothes made for you or are you allowed to dress yourself, boy?”  
 

Tom hesitated; although Robert had liked the formal kneel, he had no idea if he would feel the same about formal voice. Ken rarely asked it of him and Tom was afraid he might be a bit rusty. Still, better to try; it was easier for him to step down from formal to casual than vice versa.  Establishing the right tone was important.  
 

“Sir, yes, sir.  Sir, this boy is allowed the liberty to choose his own clothes, but this boy’s Master has the final say, sir.”  
 

“Jesus, that’s a mouthful.  Is he going to talk like this all night?” Chris clearly was not a fan.  
 

Robert gave the detective a sharp look but smiled back at Tom, “Excuse Mr. Hemsworth, boy.  He’s never had the pleasure of dealing with a classically-trained sub before.  That was very well done, but I would prefer to keep the “sirs” to one per sentence.  The rest is fine. It’s been far too long since I’ve had someone like you, boy.”  He fingered the buttons of Tom’s waistcoat, “And if you picked this out, you have excellent taste.  Savile Row?”  
 

Tom would have smirked at the disgruntled look on Chris’s face if he had been allowed.  Instead he nodded, “This boy shall take note of Mr. Hemsworth’s inexperience, sir.  As it pleases you, sir.  Yes, Savile Row, sir.”  
 

“You little brat! I am not inexperienced.”  
 

Robert’s eyes closed in exasperation, “Be quiet, Chris.  In this sense you are inexperienced.  You can show him your own unsophisticated style of domination later.  Don’t ruin this for me.”  
 

Tom could sense how close Chris was to responding with a taunt of his own.  Instead, he sighed and rubbed his forehead, “Fine.  But do you want me to undress him or not?”  
 

Robert seemed a little taken aback at Chris’s restraint.  “Well, I was going to have you cut him out of his clothes, but it would be a shame to ruin something this well-made.”  
 

Tom didn’t bother to hide his relief, “This boy thanks you, sir.”  
 

“You’re welcome.” Robert smiled kindly and then backhanded him across his right cheek, expression never changing. “That is for speaking out of turn.  Don’t do it again, boy.”  
 

It was so swift, so unexpected that Tom needed a few breathless seconds to respond.  The pain blossoming on his cheek was lovely, enough to remind him of his place without leaving much of a bruise.  Tom hoped that level of precision was intentional, for if Robert was that good then he was definitely in for an interesting time.  He brought his head back up and murmured, “Yes, sir.  This boy apologizes, sir.”  
 

“Better.  How do you feel about those jeans, boy?”  
 

“This boy has no opinion, sir.”  In truth, Tom liked his skinny jeans, but they were far easier to replace than his bespoke waistcoat.  
 

“Of course you don’t.  Chris, strip him of everything but the jeans.”  
 

“Oh, am I part of this again?  I thought you two were going to trade tailor’s names and slap each other around a bit longer.  Shall I call for some tea?”    
 

“I see Tom isn’t the only one in need of an attitude adjustment.” Robert eyed him in displeasure.  
 

“Fuck you, Rob.  I agreed to follow you instructions; there was nothing in our deal about being respectful.”  Despite his annoyance, Chris stood up and moved behind Tom.    
 

Robert backed away, hands up, “Alright, alright, I get it.  Less talk, more action, right?  Well then stop whining and start moving, big guy.”  
 

Tom could hear Chris mutter something under his breath and then that strong hand returned to the nape of his neck.  “For all intents and purposes, you are nothing but a pose-able doll for the next few minutes.  Understand, boy?”  
 

“Yes, Mr. Hemsworth.”  
 

Chris made a sound of disgust, “Don’t call me that.  Mr. Hemsworth is my dad.”  
 

“And I’ve got dibs on ‘sir.’” Robert interjected.  
 

“And I’m not his Master.  So where does that leave us?  You already had a good honorific built in, Your Honor.  Why not stick with that?”   
 

“Despite evidence to the contrary, I prefer not to mix business with pleasure.”  
 

Chris’s mouth quirked up, “If you say so, Rob.  I don’t mind admitting that I like mixing the two.” His hand stroked the side of Tom’s neck.  “How about you call me detective or officer, whichever you prefer?”  
 

Tom clenched his teeth, “Yes, officer.”  
 

“You don’t like either option, do you, boy?”  
 

“No, officer.”  
 

“Good.”  Chris pulled Tom back against his chest, “Hands on your head.”  
 

Tom obeyed and Chris slid his arms around to unbutton the waistcoat.  He stepped back and guided each of Tom’s arms through the armholes, then bent them back up behind his head and tossed the garment onto a chair.  He nuzzled Tom’s neck as he unbuttoned his shirt, slipping a hand under the cloth to pinch a nipple on the way down his chest.  
 

Tom flinched then moved into the pain, wanting more.  There was breathy laugh in his ear, “I thought so.  We’ll play with that later.”  Both hands slid lower to roughly unbuckle Tom’s belt and undo the front of his jeans, pausing in surprise at the lack of underwear.  “Little slut, going commando.  How often do you do that?”  
 

“Only when this boy is dragged from bed by an urgent phone call in the middle of the night.  Officer.”  
 

“I’m holding your cock in my hand and you think it’s a good idea to get smart with me?”  
 

“Masochist,” Robert reminded.  
 

“Right.  Okay, then.”  Chris lifted Tom’s cock and slowly sawed it against the sharp teeth of his open zipper, catching part of the frenulum on an edge.  Tom cried out and tried to curl forward but Chris’s other hand held him upright until the bite of it faded into bright little points of awareness along his hardening length.  “Did you like that, boy?”  
 

“Yes, officer,” Tom replied weakly.  Chris’s casual cruelty left him buzzing with anticipation and hating himself for it.  
 

“I think I may know something else you’ll like even more.”  Chris’s hands wrapped about Tom’s neck to slide his tie around until the knot was at the back.  He braced his forearm across Tom’s shoulders and twisted a hand in the tie then pulled down, choking him.  Tom’s response was instantaneous; the breath left his lungs in a shocked whimper and his already interested cock leapt to full attention.  It poked out from his jeans lewdly and bobbed against his stomach as he struggled to take a breath, just to test if he could.  He flushed hot with desire at the realization that Chris was now fully in control of his ability to take in air.  
 

“Well if that isn’t the prettiest thing I ever did see.  Nicely done, Chris.”  Robert’s voice came from somewhere to the left, but all of Tom’s attention was on the smooth silk and rough hand strangling him.  His sight began to grey at the edges, black creeping in until there were but pinpricks of light remaining; then everything rushed back in, his vision and lungs expanding to their full breadth when Chris let go of the tie.  
 

Tom barely stopped himself from doubling over and bringing his arms down to rub his throat, but couldn’t stop the dry cough his body let out in protest.  He panted, on the verge of hyperventilating from trying to breath in enough air all at once to make up for the deficit.   Chris paid him no mind and groped his erection while his other hand pushed aside Tom’s shirt to bare a shoulder.  The lack of oxygen had left his nerve endings over-sensitized and Tom’s breath stopped again at the punishing bite to his shoulder blade.   _Nononono, too much, too much!_  
 

“Sir!  Of-officer!  Please!” Chris’s head came up and his hand fell away in surprise at the genuine distress in Tom’s voice.  
 

Robert was by his side immediately, “What is it, boy?”  
 

Tom tried to collect himself, but that was exactly the problem.  He couldn’t rein in his oncoming orgasm much longer; the urge grew within him at every throb of his shoulder, every ragged, painful breath he took.  Only his training kept the tide at bay, but even that wouldn’t hold it back forever.  “This…this boy be-begs permission to come, sir.  Please, sir!  I-this boy can’t-“  
 

“Go ahead, boy.  It’ll make what I want to do next easier anyway.  Come for us, Tom.”  Robert brushed his cheek tenderly.  
 

At his touch Tom let the chaos churning within overtake him, the rush of blood filled his ears and he succumbed to an orgasm of such force it left him weak and wobbly.  Long strings of come splashed his stomach and chest, dribbling down to make a sticky mess of his jeans.  It was humiliating to have fallen apart so quickly under Chris’s hands, as though he had never been choked or hurt before.  But he hadn’t, not by Chris.  It frightened Tom, how strong his reaction to the man was.  
 

Chris gently cradled Tom’s wrists and crossed them over his chest, laying his own arms on top, and held him up through the aftershocks.  Tom allowed himself a few seconds of comfort in the embrace and lolled his head back against one broad shoulder.  He moved to stand at attention again, but Chris only tightened his grip.  “Give yourself a moment, Tom.  You were such a good boy for us, waiting for permission,” he reassured him.  
 

Tom didn’t agree; he was ashamed at his lack of control, but knew better than to argue.  He turned to Robert to gauge his reaction and immediately wished he hadn’t.  Robert’s expression was reminiscent of the one he’d worn at the Law Society International dinner, like Tom was the most fascinating and amusing little pet he’d ever seen.    
 

“Isn’t that interesting?  Seems you figured out how to hotwire our boy all by yourself, Chris.  You should write a manual.”  
 

“This boy apologizes for-,” Tom began but didn’t know how to continue.  For losing control so early?  For being unable to hold back?  For speaking out of turn?  But Robert seemed to understand and hushed him with a wave of his hand.  
 

“No, no.  No need to be sorry, boy.  Like I said, it’s a good thing you came so quickly, and waited for the go ahead before doing so.  But if you feel so strongly about it, I can punish you.  I’m going to do it anyway, might as well have a reason.”  He smiled wickedly, “Once you’re done cuddling, Chris, finish stripping him and join me by the bar.”  
 

Chris tensed at the word “cuddling” and let Tom go. He ripped Tom’s shirt the rest of the way off and undid the tie to slip it from his neck.  Tom groaned at the slide of it around his tender throat.  “I’ll give you my hand there later, if you want, princess.  Or my teeth.  Maybe both, now that I think about it.”  
 

“Please, officer.”  Tom breathed out.  He would have hardened again at the image, but it was still too soon.  
 

“Right now, though, I think Rob has something better planned.”  Chris wiped his hands and forearms on Tom’s shirt then dropped it and the tie on the floor.  “C’mon, then,” he nodded towards Robert and bar.  Tom stood for a moment, reveling in the filthy debasement of the come drying on his clothes and skin, his cock hanging limply out of the crusting opening of his jeans, then moved obediently to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this chapter on my [tumblr](http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuSVWN2L).


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